


When Tomorrow Falls

by whatacartouchebag



Series: Fair Game Week 2020 [6]
Category: RWBY
Genre: M/M, a bit of canon typical Grimm violence, fairgameweek2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:26:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23243983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatacartouchebag/pseuds/whatacartouchebag
Summary: Day Six Challenge - Mantle BattleHe'd never faced anything like this before, but Qrow...Qrow was talking about it as softly and gently as a passing thunderstorm.Everything seemed so... big.And he was just one man.
Relationships: Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi
Series: Fair Game Week 2020 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1665535
Comments: 5
Kudos: 58





	When Tomorrow Falls

**Author's Note:**

> Home stretch baybee!! Writing Grimm battles is apparently my jam, because as soon as the prompt hit, it took me one sitting of a few hours to smash this one out. These two fighting side by side is just such a treat to explore <3
> 
> I'm also super sorry if this one doesn't seem as polished as the other ones. I kind of ran out of time entirely thanks to work and had to proofread it pretty much right before posting ajkdhf

Wind ripped at him from where he fell in an easy tumble through the sky. Flecks of snow stung his cheeks as he lined up the barren streets before him. At the edge of his senses, danger flickered into view.

Warning sirens blared into the night. Citizens were screaming in fear and panic. Grimm were screaming, howling, bellowing. Explosions and crashes.

Chaos.

The world he plummeted towards had devolved into sheer gods damned chaos.

Red eyes narrowed as he forced it all from his mind. He had a job to do. He had people to save. He'd start from there and work the rest out as it fell into play. Fingers snatched at Harbinger, and in a scattering of dark feathers, the raven swooped lower to the ground, suddenly carving up and away from the snowy cobblestones below, and vanishing as quickly as it appeared.

Qrow felt the shift of gravity beneath him, and booted feet landed hard on the icy ground, sliding to a stop. He stood upright once more, letting his breath out in a short sigh. He knew what direction he'd fallen from, but the others...

Clover.

His brow furrowed as he pulled out his scroll, intent on finding where the operative had landed.

A nearby scream punctured the air, and he whipped about to see a small group of people bolting towards him. He stuffed his scroll away, already darting towards them, Harbinger unfurling in his hands.

“Head for the nearest shelter!” he called out to them as he ran past, eyes fixed firmly on the approaching pack of Sabyrs. “Don't stop!”

The blade sang through the air as he carved through the first one; the beast giving a final bellow as it vanished in a cloud of ash. Attention firmly pulled, the rest of them snarled at this newcomer, so full of confident rage, and they launched themselves at him.

Qrow changed his tack mid-stride, ducking out of the way of vicious talons, spinning deftly to drive the butt of Harbinger's handle into it's face and punching it away. The second Sabyr caught the rest of his swing, and a scythe blade carved through it in a darkened cloud.

The breath was suddenly punched from him as he was tackled from behind, a bony head ramming him and sending him skidding across the icy stone. He whipped his eyes up, glaring death at the Sabyr that bore down on him, fangs bared.

With a quick spin of Harbinger, it compacted in his hand and he pointed it squarely at the creature, grasping his wrist for support. The blade snapped downwards and he shot it full force in the depths of that open maw, dispatching it with relative ease as flecks of ash streaked past his face. Alright. They were particularly vicious down here tonight, his mind realised. He stood up, brushing himself down and gave a low roll of his shoulders.

He was going to have to be more careful, lest they catch him off-guard like that again.

Qrow whipped his gaze up as the streetlights suddenly clacked over to a comforting green hue. Well, if anything, the early warning system would help prevent any more surprise attacks. He tucked his blade back into place against the small of his back and glanced around him once more, still pushing out everything that assaulted his senses.

He knew his girls would be safe. He had utter faith in not only their abilities, but their sheer stubbornness that all his family seemed to carry. If anything else, that would be the only thing to get them through this night, he thought with a faint smile.

The rest of them, well, he had no doubts about how strong they all were. And if they were lacking in any other department, they more than made up for it in pure determination.

He reached up to run a hand through his hair, pushing it roughly back.

Right. Clover.

Fingers ducked into his jacket once more as he moved, jogging lightly towards where that transport ship once sailed low through the sky. The screen of his scroll blared an angry red at him, and with a short growl, he stuffed it back where it came from. Of course communications were hazy down here.

Of  _ course _ .

Mantle had been shafted and shunted to the side every since Atlas began towering over it, and tonight was utterly proving it. He bit back the hiss on his tongue and pushed his mutterings to the side. He could chew out James and the rest of them later. For now he only had one thing on his mind, and he sped up, booted feet pounding hard on the frosted stone.

He had to find his partner.

Red eyes darted about him, sharply taking in everything he could at a moment's glance. Destruction and chaos lay about him. People huddling and hiding; some running terrified. Some lay broken on the ground, already gone from the world. He felt his brow pinch sharply, anger flaring through him.

Above him the light hazed over to that angry red once more, and he couldn't even recall snatching Harbinger into clenched fingers. Couldn't even remember the first few Sabyrs that ran at him, talons and fangs swiping furiously and wishing only for this man's death.

Qrow knew he was angry. He was beyond furious.

Everything that had lead to this point could have all been so easily prevented, and still –  _ still _ – James chose to do  _ nothing _ about it.

The enraged snarl flew from him as he cleaved through another Grimm, sending it to it's demise, and immediately slicing through the next one with a vicious twirl of Harbinger. He couldn't help it. Couldn't help the anger, and it almost felt good to have a singular target to take it out upon.

He knew he shouldn't, though. Gods above and below, he  _ knew _ giving in to his fury was a mistake. Especially when those responsible had already given in to their fear.

There was a sharp cry from nearby as citizens scattered from the sight, and he snapped the blade smartly back to a broadsword, bending almost impossibly back from a sudden swipe. He drove the weapon sharply up into its exposed stomach; the force pushing his feet out from under him and sending him crashing flat on his back on the cold ground.

The creature's remains ghosted about him for a moment, dissolving dust brushing across exposed skin as he dropped his head against the stone, Harbinger clattering down next to him.

He lay still for a moment, breath falling from him in short pants, and he screwed red eyes shut, letting an arm fall across his face as he waited to come down from his blinding emotion.

“Are... are you okay?”

A timid voice called from somewhere nearby, and he lowered his arm a little, glancing over at a young woman. She looked terrified, damn near shaking as she approached the huntsman. Qrow closed his eyes for a moment, rolling onto his hands and knees as he blearily stood, letting the rest of his ragged breath out in a low sigh.

Anger wasn't productive.

Anger was only going to get people hurt.

And anger without a purpose was a useless emotion. Nothing but a target for the Grimm.

“All fine,” he told her, getting easily to his feet and brushing himself down a little. “Just taking a quick breather.”

The woman visibly deflated with relief at his words, pressing a hand to her chest. “Oh thank goodness,” the words came out as a single breath, and he caught his expression softening at her fear. “You're the only huntsman we've seen here all night,” she continued, voice wavering.

Qrow reached up without thinking, placing a hand to her arm. “You've got others here? Are you all hidden?” he pressed gently. She nodded quickly, eyes ducking away for a moment.

“We're hiding out in a nearby bakery,” she explained quickly.

His brow pinched lightly. “The closest transport's arriving two blocks east from here in a few minutes. If you want a chance at escaping alive, I suggest you take it,” he told her firmly, tucking Harbinger back into place once more.

Her gaze held to his for a long moment, flicking between red, before slowly lowering to the ground. She swallowed through a tight throat.

“We're all going to die here tonight... aren't we..?” she breathed.

“Not if I and the rest of my teams can help it,” Qrow replied without thought. He gave her arm a squeeze. “Get back to the others. Get ready to leave. You'll be safe once you reach Atlas.”

The woman didn't seem to hear him, lost in her own acceptance that this would be her last night alive. Qrow could appreciate where she was coming from, and he wanted to share in the hopelessness of the situation; he really did. From where he was standing, knowing all that he did, it really  _ did _ feel like a situation without hope.

But he was a huntsman.

He knew what he stood for.

Hope was the currency with which he dealt.

“Go!” he called sharply to her, startling her into movement, and she bolted from her place.

He watched her run, brow knit as she disappeared into a nearby shop front. Red eyes flicked over the front of it as the door slammed shut behind the woman. Well, at least it looked secure for the moment, and no windows were brok-

A guttural bellow shattered the relative silence behind him, and he whipped about. A pack of Beowolves were stampeding towards him, and he spun his blade into his hand once more. With the way the night was going, he didn't even know why he was putting it away of often.

He flipped the blade in his hand, and the scythe curled about him as he fell into a waiting stance. He knew the creatures bearing down on him were certainly going to make the first move, and he just had to look for the first opening.

The first one, closest to him, screamed out in rage and whipped a paw back to strike at him. Red eyes narrowed, waiting,  _ waiting _ . Fingers creaked tightly about Harbinger and as thick claws raked down upon him, he leapt straight up into the night air.

The creature's massive paw struck the empty ground, and it tore it's gaze upwards to find the huntsman suspended briefly by gravity. Qrow twirled his weapon before him, red eyes whipping across the pack.

Fifteen.

He could work with that.

The scythe gave a brief glint in the moonlight as he plummeted back to earth, catching the final gleam of her light before he was washed in the angry red of Mantle. With a sharp cry of his own, he hurtled towards the centre of the pack, Harbinger careening back briefly before he belted it towards the helpless creatures.

It tore from his hands like a buzzsaw, slamming into the ground between them all and sending out a vast shockwave, knocking several of them back and taking out a few of the smaller ones. He turned in the air, driving towards another feet first, and landing hard on it's neck, shattering bone instantly.

Qrow landed in a crouch within the last of it's dissipating body, and he sprang towards Harbinger, sunk deep into the ground. Hands whipped about the activator, and the handle flung him high into the air once more, springboarding him down onto another Beowolf with the harsh drive of an elbow. He landed in front of it, smashing it in the jaw with a vicious uppercut, and thrusting his palm into it's chest, feeling something break within as it shot backwards from the strike.

He bent backwards as a meaty paw swiped at him from the midst of that dark ash before him, one hand steadying himself on the ground, and from where he was, he kicked upwards sharply, driving his foot into a sternum and somersaulting backwards as he darted back to his weapon. Hands snatched about the handle once more, and he wrenched it free, spinning it about his waist and watching the Grimm stumble and fall.

Red eyes ducked between them. They looked like a young pack that didn't know any better, and it was something completely in his favour as they all ran at him together, screaming their rage at this huntsman.

Qrow flicked the blade about, facing outwards, snatching Harbinger tight to his waist, and he spun viciously, the war scythe tearing through those stupid enough to get close to it, sending them screaming back to whence they came.

He brought himself to a stop, retracting the blade sharply to a broadsword once more, and a sharp sound caught his attention from behind. Qrow didn't give himself time to think about it as he shot towards the Beowolf in front of him, cleaving through it and using the momentum of his swing to slash deftly into another.

There was a dying cry behind him, and he  _ did _ turn around at that, smirk breaking across his face.

“Took you long enough!” he called, whipping about to ram the blade deep into a waiting Grimm.

Clover gave him a bright laugh as he approached from the far side of what remained of the pack. Kingfisher stayed short in his hand, making full use of that vicious barb as he slashed out at a nearby Beowolf. As the creature howled in pain, he twirled the weapon in his hand, staking it deftly through the neck with a jagged harpoon.

“Figured I'd let you have some fun first!”

The reply had the laughter falling from him, and together, the two of them took out what remained of the little pack. One by one, the creatures fell to both blade and barbed hook, to scythe and harpoon, but there was a solitary Beowolf at the rear of the pack that seemed somewhat smarter than the others.

It took a few paces back from the seemingly endless massacre before it, whipping about and galloping away on all fours. It knew there were easier, far less deadly prey to catch elsewhere.

“Oh no you don't!” Qrow called. “Front and centre!”

Clover suddenly darted towards the huntsman, and Qrow reversed Harbinger's scythe in his hand, blade trailing behind his swing. As he spun around sharply, gaining momentum, Clover leapt feet first towards him, boots cracking hard against the back of Harbinger's handle.

Gravity vanished about him for a moment, as he was flung towards the fleeing Grimm, and he spun Kingfisher in his hands, clutching it tight as he smashed into the creature like a meteor, harpooning it through the back of the neck. He vaulted up and away from it before he could lose his chance, and he somersaulted over it's dissipating body, landing in a hard crouch.

The quiet breath left him as he stood, reaching up to lightly dust himself off. Well now. Glad to know what they'd practised seemed to work pretty well in the field. Even if it did end up with him landing some hundred yards away from the huntsman. Considering the power behind that swing though, he was surprised he didn't land even _ further  _ away.

It was hard to tell what killed the Grimm first; the harpoon, or the fact he was careening forward with such velocity that he probably just damn near crushed it's spine.

Either way, he was surprised he was still standing. His ankles were just about tingling with the force Qrow put into that attack. He gave a brief sigh as he made the return trek, twirling Kingfisher back into it's compact form and tucking it away once more.

Hands settled upon his hips as he regarded the huntsman. “Be honest, who were you  _ really _ trying to kill there?” he taunted softly.

Qrow gave a light snort, driving the tip of his broadsword into the ground, and folding his arms loosely atop it. “So I got caught up in the moment...” he began, giving a completely unapologetic shrug. “Big deal. You've still got your ankles, right?”

“Hardly,” Clover laughed softly at him. “I think I'll be feeling that for a week.”

The smirk crossed the huntsman's lips. “You'll survive.”

The silence settled between them, and the lights clattered back to their usual muted green. Qrow stood upright once more, letting the ghost of a sigh slip from him as his eyes closed for a moment. It wasn't a sigh of relief, because gods above and below, he knew they'd be doing this for the rest of the night.

If anything, it was a nice opportunity to catch his breath.

He blinked red eyes open once more, hands still curled about Harbinger, and he felt his brow pinch with the look of utter scrutiny he was being given. He cocked his head at the man, who realised he was staring a little, and could only smile faintly at him.

“Sorry, just... checking,” he admitted softly.

“Little early in the night to be checking me out,” came the smooth reply, earning him a short breath of a laugh as the operative held out a hand.

“Making sure you're alright,” Clover corrected softly. “I don't think I need to do any more of  _ that, _ ” he added.

Qrow resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the man, tugging Harbinger from the ground and collapsing it in his hand. “I'm fine, really,” he told him gently, sliding the weapon back into place. “Had a run-in with a pack of Sabyrs almost as soon as I was on the ground. This? This was skirmish number three.”

“You really don't waste time, do you,” the soft laugh of a statement met his ears.

“Not when there's a job to be done,” Qrow told him in finality.

It still didn't stop green eyes from lingering over him, especially now knowing the huntsman had been in near constant battles since he landed. The warm smile found Qrow's lips and he reached up, placing a hand above a red ascot.

“Hey, I really am fine,” he told him firmly, meeting that gaze.

Clover held it for a moment, before the quiet sigh fell from him. Perhaps he  _ was _ just worried about nothing, but gods above, he didn't want to be proven wrong tonight. Without even thinking, he reached for the hem of the huntsman's jacket, pulling him closer and allowing warm arms to settle about his waist, embracing him firmly.

Qrow was caught a little off-guard for a moment, before hands moved, slipping over broad shoulders and lacing loosely about his neck. It was a gentle warmth they shared. The only warmth they'd had the chance to grasp in their entire day so far, and red eyes closed, allowing himself to indulge in the feeling, Clover relishing it in the same way.

Everything that had happened so far had been utter chaos; the world was falling down around them, and they felt like they were only two people getting caught up in this whole, tumultuous storm. So many pieces were moving behind the scenes, that it was almost impossible to keep up. So many things had changed.

So many things  _ kept _ changing.

He felt hands tighten about his back, the heavy sigh falling against the curve of his shoulder, and the wistful smile came to his face.

Maybe once this was all over, his mind began, and he almost laughed aloud before any other thought followed it.

What then, once it was over? Would he stay here, in Atlas? Would he continue the fight against Salem?

Red eyes blinked open, staring at the city slung so far above them, like a judge staring down at them from on high. For a brief handful of time, he almost felt... hopeless. Nothing but that dark pit of despair staring back at him once again.

A flicker of a feeling, and he held onto the man tighter, chasing it back into the night whence it came from.

“Hey...” he breathed into short brunet hair.

There was a shift of movement against him, and Clover drew back, just enough to rest foreheads together, staring almost achingly into red eyes. Qrow couldn't stop the smile from gracing his lips, even if the sight of those eyes drove the splinter into his heart, so deep and tight that it threatened to break him.

He withdrew a hand, fingertips brushing faint along a cheek.

“We'll be fine,” he told him softly. Red eyes glanced downwards, and fingers followed suit, skirting across the scant gleam of a pin. “I mean, that's what this is here for, right?”

Green eyes glanced down at the soft motion, and he couldn't help the faint pull of a smile at the edges of his lips. He still had no idea how the rest of the night would go, nor what it would bring, and that uncertainty burrowed under his skin in the worst way possible.

He'd never faced anything like this before, but Qrow...

Qrow was talking about it as softly and gently as a passing thunderstorm.

Everything seemed so... big.

And he was just one man.

His smile grew as he pressed his lips to the huntsman's forehead, just holding him there and feeling the warmth in his assuredness. It almost amazed him. Despite everything the huntsman knew of himself, despite everything Qrow believed about himself as a person, he really could gently grasp that single sliver of hope and place it firmly in the hands of anyone else.

He dearly wished he knew how to hold onto it as well as the huntsman did.

Clover drew in a deeper breath, letting it sit full in his chest for a moment as he drew away, letting it out in a low sigh. He was a soldier, and vastly used to dealing in only absolutes. But... perhaps it was time he remembered what it was like to be a huntsman, first and foremost.

This rag-tag group that had blustered into their lives had given out more than their time and their energy to the citizens of Mantle and the restoration of Amity Colosseum.

Their currency was hope, and they gave it freely to all.

Clover had almost forgotten what that felt like, until it grasped him firmly by the shoulders once more, insistently pressing the coin to his hand.

The faint smile ghosted about his expression as he met those red eyes once more, and Qrow could only smile warmly at him. He leant in, seeing the first glint of clarity in those eyes, brushing his lips against the other's.

Uncertainty was there, in the back of their minds. But they knew full well that they had the ability to bring hope to others. They had the means to help turn the tide against impossible odds.

If they didn't, who would?

The quiet sound slipped between them, and fingers curled back up against a warm cheek. Clover shifted his hands lightly, tracking further up underneath a dark jacket, and pressing deep into muscle. How easy it would be to simply forget the rest of the evening, and stay curled up against him, taking selfish pleasure for themselves.

To forget the world even existed.

How easy it would-

There was a sharp draw of breath against his lips and Qrow pulled back, scant space coming between them. The brunet was startled for a moment, before brows pinched together in deep annoyance.

“I thought you said you were fine,” he told him flatly.

“I am, I am! Just a... stray hit,” came the instant reply. Clover pressed fingers into that spot once more, and Qrow startled, immediately thwapping him on the chest, trying to retreat from it. “Alright! Fine! I took a  _ decent _ hit earlier, and I thought it was nothing.”

“That didn't  _ look _ like nothing,” Clover pressed firmly, letting fingers withdraw from him.

The huntsman gave an almost weary sigh as he pulled back from a warm embrace. “I got distracted. A... blunt hit from behind. It's just sore, really; nothing feels broken,” he explained. Clover didn't believe him for a second, and was already reaching for the huntsman's jacket, pushing it almost roughly away from shoulders. “Hey, easy now, we're in public,” he quipped, reaching back and extracting Harbinger from the equation. The broadsword appeared, and he stabbed it into the ground, for lack of a better holding spot, even as he let the operative peel his jacket from him; his cloak slipping off with it as Qrow's fingers worked on the buttons of his vest.

He bit back the sigh, knowing there was no way out of it, and that Clover would scold him regardless.

The man regarded him silently as he slouched out of his vest, placing it atop his jacket slung across Clover's arm. Fingers tugged lightly, untucking his white undershirt and grasping gathered hems as he turned, pulling both his shirts up a little and exposing once warm skin to the bite of cold night air. The operative gave a short sigh as he pressed fingers to that skin, tracing up his spine.

Now where did he feel-

There was a light jump as he pressed across the start of that sore spot, and he pushed his shirt up higher, bare shoulder blades staring back at him. A hefty welt was forming underneath skin, right on the edges of both, and bridging the space between them. Whatever hit him was big. Enough to bring about the immediate swelling, and he was  _ damn _ lucky that whatever it was hadn't cracked bone.

Qrow tried to suppress the faint shiver that tore through him, despite warm fingers sitting across his back.

“Wouldn't mind if you hurried it up,” he told him, feeling himself getting colder by the second.

“What was it?”

The man ignored what he'd just been told, keeping his hand flat across skin, just below shoulder blades.

“Ah, Sabyr. Headbutted me from behind,” Qrow told him, unable to take it any longer as he stepped away, pulling his shirt back down. He rolled his shoulders a little, hands reaching up to rub at his arms lightly. Clover bit back the sigh as he held out his clothes for him, and they were hastily snatched up once more. “Look, my aura feels fine. It was just a moment of distraction; nothing more,” he told the man, fingers deftly turning over buttons.

He pulled his jacket back on, and went about smoothing everything down and tucking everything back into place. Hands brushed down his front, knowing the man had every right to worry, but it still didn't stop his automatic reaction to simply deflect his concerns to one side.

“They're particularly vicious tonight. All this emotion in the air...” Qrow began absently, fingers tucking the last of his cloak back into place. “It's got them all riled up.”

He brought his gaze back up to the operative. “They hit harder now, so be on your guard.” Clover brought his hand to his mouth in thought, mulling it over, dark brows furrowed lightly. He knew when to leave well enough alone with the huntsman, and if Qrow maintained he was fine, then he'd simply have to take him at his word for now.

Even if he  _ was _ going to scold him later, regardless.

“Everyone's panicking, so it makes sense,” he murmured to himself. Green eyes glanced back up to the huntsman, determination swimming in their depths. “Are there any civilians nearby that still need to be evacuated?”

Qrow tilted his head towards the nearby shopfront. “Met a woman who took off in there. Seemed pretty shaken up about everything, and she was with a bunch of others, or so she says,” he explained simply. “I told them to get out as soon as possible, but then all of this happened.” He gestured lightly to the street around them.

“Next thing I know, I'm being violated by an officer of the law on the streets,” he added with a smirk. Clover met his gaze, stuck for a moment before the laugh fell from him.

“That is  _ not _ what happened at all,” he replied, smile spreading across his entire expression.

“You didn't even ask for  _ permission _ to take my clothes off. In  _ public _ ,” Qrow pressed, smug smile firmly across his lips as he folded his arms.

“You kissed me first, I'll have you know,” Clover pressed right back, hands resting on his hips as he gave a light snort of offence. “I'm inclined take back every nice thing I've ever said to you...” he muttered under his breath.

“I was bullied by an officer into complying.”

“I'd call it bribery.”

“Uh...  _ yeah _ , and did it work?”

“You  _ did  _ let me take your clothes off.”

Qrow put his hands up in light surrender, conceding the point to the man.

“Alright, well... looks like I'm in trouble,” he sighed softly. “Can't have James finding out I  _ bribed _ one of his top officials.” Clover tilted his head towards him, brows raised.

“Ah. That  _ would  _ be bad...” he murmured. “Lucky for you, there's a surefire way to avoid it happening again.”

The huntsman raised his brows, just waiting the man out. Clover could only smile at him as he reached for that jacket once more, fingers curling into the hem and pulling him closer.

“And what would that be...” Qrow breathed, “...  _ sir? _ ”

That smile hitched and hands snaked under his jacket.

“Kiss me again...” he murmured, already brushing against those lips. “I'll make sure he doesn't find out...”

“Mm, can do...”

Red eyes closed as smiling lips pressed to his own, and fingers curled into the lapels of the man's uniform. He was always so warm, and he found his brief exposure to the cold night air all the more worth it when the man was there, wrapped about him once again.

Thumbs brushed across fabric, slipping across that little charm, and he felt fingers travel further up his sides, one hand sliding along the length of his arm to settle into dark strands.

Qrow sighed into that mouth, wanting nothing more than for the night to stop. Gods above, but he wanted the night to _stop_.

To be rid of-

A sharp screech bellowed from behind them, ripping the two of them from each other's warmth. Startled eyes focused sharply on the approaching Teryx. Hands untangled from one another, and Qrow was already snatching up Harbinger; hearing Kingfisher flicking open at his side.

“Back to it?”

Red eyes glanced over at the man, standing casually as he tilted his head at the approaching Grimm. He matched that smile as he brought his weapon up, the blade snapping down and lining up the shot.

“Back to it.”

The blast rang out, firmly grabbing the thing's attention, and it careened down towards them, gaping maw wide open and seeking death. Clover lined up the shot of his own, and sent a barbed hook tearing towards it. It punched through a translucent wing, clutching taut to bone on the sudden retract and wringing the startled cry from the creature.

The operative shot from his place, flung towards the Grimm, and he jerked hard on the line, ripping it free and zipping it back sharply. He shot over the head of the creature, flying parallel to it for a moment, before ramming the harpoon into the thing's back to brake his ascent, tearing through flesh until it came to a stop. The harsh jolt through his arms was something he didn't want to experience any time again, and the Teryx screamed in fresh pain.

On the ground, Qrow was still taking calculated potshots at the Teryx, knowing it was more than luck that would keep Clover from getting hit. There was a sharp flare of movement above the creature, and red eyes widened as he saw Kingfisher's line whip about a broad neck; the operative's hand snatching it up below the barb.

Clover quickly wrenched back _hard_ on both line and Kingfisher as if yanking a horse to a sudden halt. The Grimm's head snapped back and limbs flailed about in pain and confusion, suddenly unable to breathe.

“Up and at 'em!”

The loud cry shot out from above, and Qrow took off in a sprint, leaping towards the falling creature, scythe lined up with that broad underside.

With a sharp yell, he sunk the blade directly into the thing's chest, ripping a jagged line through flesh and tearing free near it's stomach. With a final screech of pain, it dissipated into the night sky, and the two huntsmen came careening back to earth.

Clover caught the edge of a lamp post, whipping about it and landing in lightly jarring jog. Green eyes whipped up to spy the raven diving towards him, and in a scattering of feathers, Qrow landed before him; boots skidding ungracefully on the icy ground and hands bracing before him as he collided with the operative.

Hands were already about his shoulders to steady him, and the faint laugh slipped from each of them.

“Come here often?” Clover asked in pure cheek.

Qrow gave a light snort at that. “Only when I forget how slippery the ground is,” he replied.

The soft laughter filtered between the two of them, and Clover reached up to brush the the backs of fingers to a cheek lightly. They continued in their path, fingertips sifting back through dark hair and threading easily into silken locks.

Red eyes watched his own through the gentle movement, slipping closed as lips brushed across his cheek. It felt almost natural to them at this point, this shared kind of contact; a gentle brush, a soft movement across skin, simple reciprocation in a quiet moment where they could.

Yet lately, quiet moments were far and few between, so they took whatever they could steal from time itself.

Shoulders brushing against one another as they walked to a transport, fingers moving across an arm as they parted, lingering at the rear of their gatherings and ensuring they were the last two in the room as lips met almost achingly.

“In that case... you'll be staying a while then?” the soft breath of words against his skin had lips ghosting into a faint smile.

Qrow returned the gentle nuzzle against his cheek, and he reached for a gloved hand, threading fingers together with ease. He drew back, scant space separating them, and met wondrous green eyes.

“No better offers yet...” he breathed. The warmth of Clover's smile touched his eyes, and the man lifted their hands, pressing a lingering kiss to knuckles.

Tomorrow would continue to fall down about them, and they would forever steal time from it like thieves, snatching what moments they could.

Tonight was just another night, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Episode twelve? Don't even know her.


End file.
